


Blessings

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [79]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, First Kiss, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:40:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23833255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Some days Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade feels as though he has led a blessed life. Some days he’ll shrug and say it is just a day. Other days he will could convince you it is cursed. The last few days he would definitely place in that last category, but not this day.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Greg Lestrade
Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [79]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1090899
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Blessings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Blessing

Some days Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade feels as though he has led a blessed life. Some days he’ll shrug and say it is just a day. Oher days he will could convince you it is cursed. The last few days he would definitely place in that last category.

Against doctor’s, aka John Watson’s, orders he had returned to duty from having a doozy of the flu that had him down for few days. Naturally, less than 48 hours later he was running after one of London’s more energetic criminals through the streets in a chase. One that ended abruptly when Lestrade forgot he was not on the grassy field of the NSY football league when he made a flying tackle that brought him and the perpetrator down hard on the London pavement. That take down and the fight that immediately ensued caused both him and the perpetrator scraped faces. Luckily, he had the suspect cuffed and on his feet by the time DI Dimmock and another Met officer reached him to take over the arrest. He had a deeply gashed side caused when a jagged piece of metal impaled him from the impact of the take down. His coat had fallen back into place by the time the backup arrived, and the wound went unnoticed in the initial adrenaline rush. Twixt his weakened system, the lack of a few days proper nutrition, the over-exertion of the chase and blood loss, it all finally caught up to him. He passed out and was taken to King’s College Hospital.

~~~~~~~~~~

_“Oh, you’ve really done it now, Lestrade.” His lover tutted gently as he entered the room, his cool grey eyes looking him over. “You look like hell.”_

_G_ _reg chuckled at the grace that was Mycroft Holmes in his room._

_"_ _Thanks love,” Greg gave him a crooked smile, “’Tis but a scratch that stings just a little as Maman would say.”_

 _"_ _Oh, but a scratch?” Mycroft raised a teasing auburn brow, “Then let me be mother and do as mothers do.”_

_Though he knew the answer Greg could not resist asking, “And that is?”_

_“To kiss the boo-boo and make it better of course. Just tell me where it hurts…” Mycroft’s grin was all shades of wrong._

_With smirk Greg pointed to his bandaged forehead and the large plaster the covered his scraped cheek. Mycroft obliged with an angelically soft kiss on the bandaged cheek and utterly divine on the undamaged side. Greg pointed to his lips. Mycroft again obliged him there as well with a kiss as yielding as a blessing, a prayer fulfilled. Mycroft laid his hand over Greg’s and moved them under the sheet…_

_“Mothers don’t do that…” Greg moaned softly at the touch._

_With a slow wicked grin Mycroft slid their hands down…_

_“Oh! Then I guess it’s time for me to be Daddy now, isn’t it…?”_

~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh God…” Greg’s eyes opened into the faux cheerfulness of the hospital room.

_Not……Again._

Greg groaned as the dreams inside his mind nearly manifested in a way outside of it. He counted his blessings he was alone in the room.

_Christ, thoughts of him invade my sexy dreams. I've got to do something about this..._

He quickly slipped his hand out from under the sheet, both chagrined at the thought as to why it had been there and relieved there were no witnesses as to what it may have been about to do.

_Not that!_

He took a deep breath in frustration and automatically reached for the buttons to raise the bed into a sitting position and froze at the light scent of cologne in the air. It was a familiar scent that burrowed into his soul and filled him with longing.

_Wait… He was here? For me? No he's out of town. That makes no sense._

The ever-enigmatic Mycroft Holmes, international man of intrigue who _occupies a minor office in British government_ was anything but a minor player. Greg had figured out the immense power that lay behind the intelligent beyond reason man years ago. They went from meeting a few times a year when he used to brief Mycroft on the over-all wellness of his younger brother, Sherlock. Over the years, as their personal and professional continued to intertwine, the meetings slowly segued into something of a friendship where they saw each other regularly when their respective jobs did not get in the way.

The dark ginger hair and three-piece bespoke-suited on an elegant tall lean body has been the secret object of his affection for close to a year, but Greg knew he stood with such a man. Greg was sure the moment Mycroft, a man who has made his distaste for romantic entanglements quite known, knew how he felt, Mycroft would pull away so fast you’d think he had been burned.

Yes, Greg has moved up in the ranks at New Scotland Yard, and could have moved up further had he wanted, but the chief detective inspector was still a street cop in his heart. Greg had no illusions: a man of such sophistication as Mycroft Holmes would never have a taste for someone common like him. That distaste made Holmes blind to the longing that sat across from him regularly. It is a blessing just to have the man in life and be able to call him a friend. It is a curse knowing it could never be more.

_I will take that secret to the grave if I must, but I pray I won’t have to._

Fortunately, a doctor and nurse came in then sparing his mind from spiraling further into maudlin thoughts of being cursed with loving a man he cannot have.

As he was checked over Greg had time to look at his room. He noticed the boring muted landscape on the wall opposite him. He knew it well from the too many times he has visited when Sherlock was the occupant of the room for one scrape or another. It was a private room. A private room not in his pay scale. On the few times Greg himself has had to stay at a hospital, he had never stayed in a room as nice as this.

“How’d I get this room?” he asked a different nurse minutes later as a fresh pitcher of water was brought in.

“A mistake in your chart, had you elsewhere, but someone got a call that said you belonged here, so we moved you here while you slept.” The nurse answered mechanically before he left.

_There’s only one way I could be here, but it makes no sense, he’s not..._

Greg looked over to the opening door as that _only one way_ walked into the room with a concerned look on his face, that flashed joy for a moment before returning stoic a moment later, “Welcome back Mr. Lestrade. I estimated you’d be waking about now.”

“I… I thought you were out of town, Mr. Holmes.” Greg could not help the smile that came to him seeing Mycroft in all his three-piece suited glory as he placed his pocket watch back into its pocket.

 _Of course, he would have a good estimate on how long I’d be under._ “Wait…” Greg stopped and sniffed the suddenly caffeinated air, “The café near Whitechappel?”

He grinned when he saw the bag Mycroft carried and made _gimmie_ motions with his hands.

“Of course,” Mycroft walked over to the bed and handed him a cup from the bag and took another out for himself. “And two croissants to reacclimate your system to this thing I heard about called _food_. You perhaps should try it sometime.”

_Pot/Kettle Mr. Holmes!_

“Bless you, good man.” Greg took a careful sip of the nectar, “Have a seat and do not dare be a hypocrite, Mycroft. Sometimes I think the only time you eat proper meals is when you’re with me or when Anthea forces you.”

There was something in the shift of Mycroft’s demeanor, it was slight and gone as quickly as it came, but Greg caught it. Well aware of the man’s bad eating habits, he gave Mycroft a look.

“Mycroft…?”

“You’re not far off, I confess. It seems I can only eat these days is when forced to and can only truly enjoy a meal when I am relaxed.” Mycroft admitted not looking at Greg.

“Really? Lately you seem to enjoy your meals a lot whenev…” Greg started to point out when it hit him. “Oh…”

_He enjoys his meals whenever he and I are together. I… He is relaxed then… I relax him…?_

Greg knows he is nowhere near a Holmes level in observation, but he is one of London’s top-ranking detectives for a reason, he can deduce some things on his own quite well, as several deductions suddenly became clear and his mind is blown.

_He sees me, he knows I just figured something out. He’s going to deflect and try to distract me._

“What is it Lestrade? I can hear you trying to formulate a thought.” Mycroft sighed as if put upon, “And why the most insipid mien?”

_Because it’s not going to work. I need to know if I am right._

“Mycroft David Alexander Holmes.” Greg’s smile grew wide as he enjoyed Mycroft’s scowl at the use the man’s complete name. “No, it was not your brother who told me and no I will not tell you how I know.” He took another fortifying sip of coffee and put the cup down on the table. “I am going to ask you a few questions and you ARE going to tell me the truth, okay?”

“When have I lied to you, Lestrade?” Mycroft put on an offended voice.

_Oh please, we do not have enough time in the day for me to enumerate the ones I even know about!_

Greg merely raised an amused brow at him in response.

“When it was important, Gregory.” Mycroft quickly amended, honestly offended now.

_Fine, I’ll give you that. Now give me what I want._

Greg crossed his arms and waited; he knew better than to ask his questions yet. Mycroft gave him the Icemen glare, patent pending. It was a look that seemed to send most people scurrying away. Greg was not one of those people and Mycroft knew it. He gritted his teeth in annoyance as Greg valiantly suppressed the urge to laugh at Mycroft’s _are you constipated?_ expression as he had once described it to the man. He could not suppress the twitch of his lip in mirth seeing it now.

“I give my word. You drive a hard bargain, Lestrade.” Mycroft relented, “It had better be worth it, damn you.”

“You’re not an emergency contact I’ve listed. John and Sherlock, the only ones who might think to tell you in passing are in the States on a case and they are not listed as contacts either. Sally wouldn’t think to contact you even if she knew how. So, how did you know I was here to have me assigned to this room and why?” Greg looked to Mycroft.

Mycroft stared at him deducing. Greg could see the moment he knew Mycroft comprehended. He could not see if the man was happy or not.

_Are you going to fight me on this Mycroft too, or join me? Please let me right and join me._

“An alert is set that whenever the name Sherlock Holmes is in a hospital for care. One of my staff spots it. The information is vetted for its severity and reported to Anthea. She in turn informs me. Despite the outwardly antagonistic relationship between my brother and I, like you, she knows of his importance to me. She knows everyone who is dear to me, the same alert is in place for my parents.” Mycroft paused and bit the inside of his lip in a rare sign of uncertainty.

“Oh…” Greg closed his eyes hoping the look of disappointment he knew had to be on his face would be attributed to pain. He understood the unspoken subtext.

_You did not ask for me to be put on that list and you are not happy about it._

“That is correct,” Mycroft confirmed in that unsettling way he had of seeming to he read his thoughts, but then added, “She never said a word to me until this; however, she is not mistaken in her forethought in doing so and I am grateful she had.”

Greg’s eyes widened at the words, but he did not look at Mycroft yet, he couldn’t. He knew if he looked at him right there and then Mycroft would read everything on his face.

“I never said a word to her, Gregory. I would not have to. In my own ego I do forget how deeply she knows me. She would be able to deduce my feelings…”

Greg balled the sheet tight in the hand further from Mycroft, both terrified and thrilled at the pause in the man’s words and at what he prayed would come next as Mycroft finished the thought, “…for you.”

His head turned to face the man at last when he felt the warmth of Mycroft’s hand slowly grasp his in a touch that could not be mistaken for anything, but the tender move it was.

“She knows me well enough to interrupt my trip because she knows I would have been most upset had I found out after the fact. She knows me well enough to switch your room and your doctors because she knows I would want nothing but the best for you. I had no choice than to be honest with her then in the face of hearing you had been hurt enough to required surgery. And be honest with myself in knowing she knows me well enough to see what no one else, save perhaps my brother could see, the utter fear of losing the man that I have secretly loved.”

_You… you love me?_

Then Mycroft did the rare thing and dropped his mask.

Greg had been blessed to see pieces of the inner Mycroft from time to time. The unguarded moments that gave him the total man he had slowly fallen in love with, but this…?

It was one thing to hope.

It was one thing to dream.

It was one thing to pray.

It was another thing altogether when the thing you’ve hoped about, dreamed over and prayed for unexpectedly manifests before you.

Greg’s breath hitched in the enormity of what could not be denied.

_You love me!_

Mycroft gave him an almost shy smile that tore at Greg’s heart in its openness as Mycroft continued to speak.

“She knows me well enough to chastise me, reminding me the only reason you do not know me quite as well yet is my fault. I do hope in the many coming days before us that you get to know me as well as she does. To know me well enough to not fear telling me what I believe I have just deduced from you. That we get to know each other more...so much more than we do now.”

Greg intertwined their fingers on the hand Mycroft held, his thumb caressing the warm flesh, speechless in the revelation.

“Does that answer your questions, Gregory?” Mycroft’s cool grey eyes searched his as he put the coffee cup held on the table beside Greg’s.

“That depends…” Greg smiled into the eyes that smiled into his.

“On…?” Mycroft’s eye narrowed seeing the teasing Gregory knew was in his eyes.

“I have secretly loved you for a very long time as well but could not see that it was fully reciprocated until moments ago.” Greg pulled Mycroft to stand, “Was the bargain I drove worth it?”

"If I hadn't been honest with myself when I did, I know I would not be here today to experience this moment, now." Mycroft sat a hip on the edge of the bed. “Absolutely worth it.”

“Then I reserve the right to drive other hard bargains in our future.” Greg smiled slyly.

“In our future.” Mycroft picked up on the context with a sly smile of his own. “Drive away.”

Mindful of Greg’s injury Mycroft carefully placed his arms on either side of Greg on the bed and leaned forward, his intention clear.

“Then I have no more questions.”

And as their lips softly met Gregory Lestrade knew, that in however many years he had left to tally, this day would be counted as one of the most blessed days in his life.


End file.
